


Pity Party

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, headcanon heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s fourteen when the world starts calling her Queen of Liars. Celestia-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pity Party

**Author's Note:**

> _"Maybe it’s a cruel joke on me_  
>  _Whatever whatever_  
>  _Just means there's way more cake for me_  
>  _Forever forever"_  
>  \- Pity Party, Melanie Martinez

You’re ten when you finally realize how _hate_ works.

You realize this because through the ten years of your life, you’ve come to hate one person more than anyone – or anything – in the entire world. You know you will never loathe someone as much as you loathe her. Especially now, at this moment in time, when you stare each other down; listening to the discord of rain outside your window.

Her appearance is abysmal. You want to shatter her to pieces – like a delicate tea cup thrown to the floor; until she is pieces and fragments and nothing else. Nothing. But when your dainty white hands reach out, all you feel is a cool, flat surface. You scream.

She glares, red eyes flaring with undisguised fury and self-pity all at the same time. Her face is tear-stained, and her lips are chapped. Dirt peppers her face, and runs in ugly streaks where her nails had heaved across her skin.

It’s pitiful. She’s pitiful. She disgusts you.

That girl in the mirror.

You despise her. More than anyone else could ever despise Taeko Yasuhiro. You hate her the most.

You should just get rid of her, you think. No-one would care. No-one would miss her. Not even you.

It’s not like anyone liked that loser, anyway.

She starts crying all over again.

* * *

 

When she’s twelve and idle, she tells herself that reincarnation exists – and that she, in all her normalcy, will be reborn as Marie Antoinette. And from there she will live in a lush European castle, surrounded by people bending to her beck and call; wordlessly admiring her for her strength and charisma.

She tells herself over and over, that a better life awaits. It’s all she can do. Wishing for a better life – a better time.

A better life than the life of being merely Taeko; a disgrace, a small, poor, dismal, boring soul.

That’s why she cuts her skin on silver, gnashing bone on her tongue to drown out pathetic cries of pain. That’s why she slots her fingers into the handle of sharp, clunky scissors, and hacks at her hair till it’s short as her chin.

She wants to die. She deserves to die.

Blood splashes across her stomach. None of it is satisfactory. Empty. She feels empty. Always empty. It’s not worth it. Not now. If she had to bet her life for something, it had to be for more than this.  

So she calls her parents, and is driven to the hospital. They go over and over how useless she is – honestly, tripping and falling on that shiny metal cabinet and slicing her middle on the handle. Clumsy, stupid, Taeko.

She’s almost surprised they believed that lie so easily. She wonders how far she can lie with the rest of the world.  

Scars remain.

It’s fine.

Long sleeves will hide it.

Large clothes will hide everything.

* * *

 

She’s fourteen when the world starts calling her _Queen of Liars._

This persona, this enigmatic nature, this way of life – all an elaborate ruse. The formation of the identity ‘Celestia Ludenberg’ had a single purpose; to erase Taeko Yasuhiro. She no longer wanted to be one of the common people, so plain and undermined and invisible and so _goddamn_ ordinary. That was why she was now ‘Celestia’, beyond all doubt and beyond all apprehension.

That was why she was so confident – unreasonably so – as ‘Celestia’, because in the coiling black tresses and sharp attire, Taeko ceased to exist.

And good riddance.

Taeko was scum.

The cards play out in Celestia’s hands just the way she wants them to. She can already see her opponent storming off after she wins, cursing the fact that he chose to gamble with a ‘little girl’ and cursing the fact that she won. She can already see him thumping his fists on the table, sending the playing cards and plastic, studded chips flying in every direction. She can already see the disbelief seeping into his face. The seething hatred in his eyes that she had grown ever immune to.

The disdain on dirty lips, which spit, “Celestia Ludenberg.”

As if despising that name would do anything to her. It’s not even her real name. It’s only another lie, tossed to the table by the Queen of Liars.

“You must have cheated!”

She didn’t cheat.

“You don’t belong here!”

It’s all for the sake of her dream.

“I hate you!”

They’ll hate her even more, as the years go by.

“I’ll get you back, Ludenberg!”

She’s only fourteen.

But she hasn’t lost a game of chance in 4 years. Tomorrow, it would be 5.

* * *

 

She’s sixteen when she finally figures out what turning sixteen actually means.

She remembered that the heat from the candles had made her dizzy, but the smiles from her classmates had kept her upright. She remembered wondering how far those candles could lean before the hot wax would set upon alabaster skin; scarring it beyond repair.

She remembered voices singing.

“Happy birthday,” they had said.

It was the first time in her life anyone had ever wished her a happy birthday.

And when she walks back to her dorm, it is to her utmost surprise that a classmate offers to walk with her. Bright eyes, glamorous smile. Blonde tresses, flaring with the grace of a peacock’s tail, and tipped with the dried up color of blood. The kind of equal that Celestia would learn to appreciate, though Taeko thought she was awfully flashy.

(That coming from a girl decorated head-to-toe in gothic Lolita wearing extravagant curls of hair.)

(Disgusting, really.)

She doesn’t know why, but when they walk, the conversation flies.

Maybe it was because it was her birthday.  

Maybe it was because the heat had gotten to her.

Maybe it was because she only wanted to tell someone that she was more than who she seemed.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t change the fact that she tells Junko about Taeko, and her dream to win an immense amount of money, so that she might one day live in a towering mansion, surrounded by beauty and luxury and wealth and lies.

* * *

 

Seventeen.

She is still so full of hate.

It’s an alarming thought, but soon Celestia Ludenberg will be free to play the game of life; outside the walls of Hope’s Peak where everyone tries too hard to be liked – where everyone is just as much elitist trash as she. Everyone except the desperate lower divisions and the, well, questionably lucky.

The lucky student, to be exact.

Luck, however, is Celestia’s battlefield, and she doesn’t appreciate another player. Fortunately, Makoto Naegi is naïve. He doesn’t get in her way; too busy chasing those who are easier to enthuse, and warming the stone-cold faces that look on the world with so much hate.

But not her. She will not be swayed.

If he tries, she’ll rip that cheerful grin right off his face.

“Good morning, Celes!”

Speak of the devil.

He blabbers on. She doesn’t listen. Rolls her eyes. Gives Byakuya Togami the finger. The heir glowers at her, and turns away. Absent-mindedly, she accepts a cup of tea from Hifumi, who nods nervously and shuffles back to his seat.

Makoto frowns; and notices that she’s inattentive.

His eyes are earnest – the way the common people are – but he’s too honest, and that never settles well with the Queen of Liars.

“All that hate is going to burn you up, you know.” The worry in his face is almost laughable. It’s much too late for a warning like that, now.

Celestia smiles, pressing white fingers to rose red lips.

“I do not know what you are referring to, Makoto.”

* * *

 

She isn’t aware of it, but she’s eighteen when she takes her final gamble.

Eighteen, with the mind of a fifteen-year-old at the gates of Hope’s Peak Academy; the place that second time around cost her Taeko’s tears and Celestia’s wrath.

She wants control. Needs it. But no-one will listen.

Her nails dig into her palms as she plots.

She wishes for the first time that she could play the game unfairly. Wishes she could choose to form an alliance with the mastermind. None of these people matter to her any more than pawns on a chessboard, cards on a table, tiles on a benchtop. It’s just another game of chance.

Human lives are so feeble. Her classmates already start dying, one by one. She needs to get out of here. There’s no money to be won here; no dreams to be fulfilled.

… or is there?

Stacks and stacks and stacks appear, kindling a fire in her heart.

Up until now, it had all been child’s play.

But that sum of money? That sum of money could buy her the world. It could buy her the life of Marie Antoinette; and she didn’t even have to die for it.

All she needs is someone else to die in her place.  

No hard feelings, Kiyotaka. Hifumi.

Every great Queen has to make her sacrifices.

…

But she should have fucking murdered Makoto bullshit Naegi along with them.

Luck is a sadistic little fucker, and she should have won; she was programmed from birth to win, so _why not this time?_

Guess she’s an absolute moron for not seeing the golden triangle before – for not looking with her two fucking eyes and noting that all the investigations are being spearheaded by a certain trio of shit.

She sincerely hopes that Makoto Naegi, Kyouko Kirigiri and Byakuya Togami all go to hell and get their just desserts.

To think – her plan, her ultimate gamble; foiled by such ingrates? Was this how the Queen was going to fall?

Suppose she wouldn’t be surprised if they were the masterminds of this game. Not like it matters. Everyone already voted. Her – no, your execution awaits. So you smirk.

No-one will see you despair. No-one will see your guilt.

Because you don’t fucking have any.

And when you see the flicker of flames, you don’t feel afraid in the slightest. You almost want to laugh, actually – because it’s really goddamn ironic that they’re burning you alive.

You’re not scared.  

Celestia sneers – with a cruel yet serene sort of smile gracing her porcelain face; while Taeko cries – her tears streaking down in the form of sweat that will spill everywhere, except from her eyes.

You’re not scared, but she is petrified with fear and you hate her all over again.

Too bad you couldn’t kill her when you had the chance.

You’re really, truthfully, honest-to-God not scared.

Queen of Liars, indeed.

You smile.

Everything goes up in flames.


End file.
